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Ci)e Cruise of tt)t 



Celia Thaxter 



.52 



BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

Houghton, Mifflin and Company 
1886 



^ 

I 

\ 



THE 



CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY 



AND OTHER POEMS 



/ 



CELIA THAXTER 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

1886 



/ 






Copyright, 1886, 
By CELIA THAXTER. 

All rights reserved. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge .* 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton & Co. 



CONTENTS. 



^ 



PAGE 

The Cruise of the Mystery 5 

Schumann's Sonata in A Minor .... 14 

Because of Thee 17 

Flowers for the Brave 19 

Expostulation 21 

Persistence 23 

S. E 26 

Poor Lisette . . 27 

1:o J. G. W 29 

In Tuscany 31 

Jood-Bye, Sweet Day 35 

N Autumn 37 

EST-WiND 39 

NMPATIENCB . 41 

N THE Lane 43 

ER Mirror 46 

poR Christmas 47 

\t Set of Moon 49 

Y Garden 51 

>ST AND Saved ....... 55 

{ Rose of Joy 58 



t 

Wi 



iv CONTENTS. 

In Septembek . . . • . 

Under the Eaves 

November Morning 

In Death's Despite . . . . . . . • 7 

A Song of Hope '7 

Our Soldiers . ^7 

Two ^71 

Compensation 8 

Sonnet 8 

JoY 8^! 

Beloved 

The Answer 89 

Wild Geese 9^1 

Song ^^ 

August 

Song 

Oh tell me not of Heavenly Halls . . . O^i 

Midsummer 

New Year Song 

Captured 

Faith 

At Dawn 

In a Horse-Car 

A Valentine 

Within and Without ....•• 

Betrothed 

Questions 



9: 
10 

ic 



I 



]] 



^ooli£( fip pix&. dLUvttx* 



AMONG THE ISLES OF SHOALS. Illustrated. 
i8mo, ^1.25. 

POEMS. New Edition, enlarged. Small 4to, full 
gilt, 1 1. so. 

DRIFT-WEED. Poems. i8mo, full gilt, $1.50. 

POEMS FOR CHILDREN. Illustrated. Small 4to, 

I1.50. 

THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY, and Other 
Poems. i6rao, parchment, $1.00. 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
Boston and New York. 



THE CKUISE OF THE MYSTERY. 



The children wandered up and down, 
Seeking for driftwood o'er the sand; 

The elder tugged at granny's gown, 
And pointed with his little hand. 

"Look! look!" he cried, "at yonder ship 
That sails so fast and looms so tall!" 

She turned, and let her basket slip. 
And all her gathered treasure fall. 

" Nay, granny, why are you so pale ? 

Where is the ship we saw but now?" 
" Oh, child, it was no mortal sail ! 

It came and went, I know not how. 



6 THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY. 

"But ill winds fill that canvas white 
That blow no good to you and me. 

Oh, woe for us who saw the sight 
That evil bodes to all who see ! " 

They pressed about her, all afraid : 
" Oh, tell us, granny, what was she *? " 

" A ship's unhappy ghost," she said, 
"The awful ship, the Mystery." 

" But tell us, tell us! " " Quiet be ! " 
She said. " Sit close and listen well, 

For what befell the Mystery 
It is a fearful thing to tell ! " 



She was a slave-ship long ago. 

Year after year across the sea 
She made a trade of human woe, 

And carried freights of misery. 

One voyage, when from the tropic coast 
Laden with dusky forms she came, — 



THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY. 

A wretched and despairing host, — 

Beneath the fierce sun's breathless flame 



Sprang, like a wild beast from its lair, 

The fury of the hurricane. 
And sent the great ship reeling bare 

Across the roaring ocean plain. 

Then terror seized the piteous crowd: 
With many an oath and cruel blow 

The captain drove them, shrieking loud, 
Into the pitch-black hold below. 

Shouting, "Make fast the hatchways tight!" 
He cursed them, "Let them live or die, 

They '11 trouble us no more to-night ! " 
The crew obeyed him sullenly. 

Has hell such torment as they knew? 

Like herded cattle packed they lay, 
Till morning showed a streak of blue 

Breaking the sky's thick pall of gray. 



8 THE CRUISE OF TEE MYSTERY. 

"Off with the hatchways, men!" No sound! 

What sound should rise from out a grave? 
The silence shook with dread profound 

The heart of every seaman brave. 

" Quick ! Drag them up," the captain said, 
" And pitch the dead into the sea ! " 

The sea was peopled with the dead, 
With wide eyes staring fearfully. 

From weltering wave to wave they tossed. 

Two hundred corpses, stiff and stark, 
At last were in the distance lost, 

A banquet for the wandering shark. 

Oh, sweetly the relenting day 

Changed, till the storm had left no trace, 
And the whole awful ocean lay 

As tranquil as an infant's face. 

Abaft the wind hauled fair and fine. 
Lightly the ship sped on her way; 



THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY. 9 

Her sharp bows crushed the yielding brine 
Into a diamond dust of spray. 

But up and down the decks her crew 

Shook their rough heads, and eyed askance, 

With doubt and hate that ever grew, 
The captain's brutal countenance, 

As slow he paced with frown as black 
As night. At last, with sudden shout, 

He turned. " 'Bout ship ! We will go back 
And fetch another cargo out ! " 

They put the ship about again; 

His will was law, they could not choose. 
They strove to change her course in vain: 

Down fell the wind, the sails hung loose, 

And from the far horizon dim 

An oily calm crept silently « 

Over the sea from rim to rim ; 
Still as if anchored fast lay she. 



10 THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY, 

The sun set red, the moon shone white, 
On idle canvas drooping drear; 

Through the vast, solemn hush of night 
What is it that the sailors hear? 

Now do they sleep — and do they dream ? 

Was that the wind's foreboding moan ? 
From stem to stern her every beam 

Quivered with one unearthly groan ! 

Leaped to his feet then every man, 
And shuddered, clinging to his mate ; 

And sun-burned cheeks grew pale and wan, 
Blanched with that thrill of terror great. 

The captain waked, and angrily 

Sprang to the deck, and cursing spoke. 

" What devil's trick is this ? " cried he. 
No answer the scared silence broke. 

But quietly the moonlight clear 

Sent o'er the waves its pallid glow; 



THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY. 11 

What stirred the water far and near, 
With stealthy motion swimming slow? 

With measured strokes those swimmers dread 
From every side came gathering fast ; 

The sea was peopled with the dead 
That to its cruel deeps were cast! 

And coiling, curling, crawling on, 

The phantom troop pressed nigh and nigher, 
And every dusky body shone 

Outlined in phosphorescent fire. 

They gained the ship, they climbed the 
shrouds. 

They swarmed from keel to topmast high ; 
Now here, now there, like filmy clouds 

Without a sound they flickered by. 

And where the captain stood aghast. 
With hollow, mocking eyes they came, 



12 THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY. 

And bound him fast unto the ma.st 

With ghostly ropes that bit like flame. 

Like maniacs shrieked the startled crew I 
They loosed the boats, they leaped within, 

Before their oars the water flew, 
They pulled as if some race to win. 

With spectral light all gleaming bright 
The Mystery in the distance lay ; 

Away from that accursed sight 
They fled until the break of day. 

And they were rescued, but the ship, 

The awful ship, the Mystery, 
Her captain in the dead men's grip, — 

Never to any port came she; 

But up and down the roaring seas 
For ever and for aye she sails. 

In calm or storm, against the breeze, 
Unshaken by the wildest gales. 



THE CRUISE OF THE MYSTERY. 13 

And wlieresoe'er her form appears 
Come trouble and disaster sore, 

And she has sailed a hundred years, 
And she will sail forevermore." 



SCHUMANN'S SONATA IN A MINOR. 

(mit leidenschaftlichem ausdruck.) 

The quiet room, the flowers, tlie perfumed calm. 
The slender crystal vase, where all aflame 

The scarlet poppies stand erect and tall. 
Color that burns as if no frost could tame, 

The shaded lamplight glowing over all, 

The summer night a dream of warmth and 
balm. 

Outbreaks at once the golden melody, 

" With passionate expression ! " Ah, from 
whence 
Comes the enchantment of this potent spell, 
This charm that takes us captive, soul and 
sense ? 
The sacred power of music, who shall tell, 
Who find the secret of its mastery? 



SCHUMANN'S SONATA IN A MINOR. 15 

Lo, in the keen vibration of the air 
Pierced by the sweetness of the violin, 

Shaken by thrilling chords and searching notes 
That flood the ivory keys, the flowers begin 

To tremble ; 't is as if some spirit floats 
And breathes upon their beauty unaware. 

The stately poppies, proud in stillness, stand 
In silken splendor of superb attire : 

Stricken with arrows of melodious sound, 
Their loosened petals fall like flakes of fire ; 

With waves of music overwhelmed and 
drowned, 
Solemnly drop their flames on either hand. 

So the rich moment dies, and what is left? 

Only a memory sweet, to shut between 
Some poem's silent leaves, to find again, 

Perhaps, when winter . blasts are howling 
keen, 
And summer's loveliness is spoiled and slain. 

And all the world of light and bloom bereft. 



16 SCHUMANN'S SONATA IN A MINOR. 

But winter cannot rob the music so ! 

Nor time nor fate its subtle power destroy- 
To bring again the summer's dear caress, 

To wake the heart to youth's unreasoning 

joy. — 

Sound, color, perfume, love, to warm and 
bless. 
And airs of balm from Paradise that blow. 



BECAUSE OF THEE. 

My life has grown so dear to me 

Because of tliee ! 
My maiden with the eyes demure, 
And quiet mouth, and forehead pure. 
Joy makes a summer in my heart 

Because thou art ! 

The very winds melodious be 

Because of thee! 
The rose is sweeter for thy sake, 
The waves in softer music break. 
On brighter wings the swallows dart, 

Because thou art ! 

My sky is swept of shadows free 
Because of thee ! 



18 BECAUSE OF THEE. 

Sorrow and care have lost their stms". 
The blossoms glow, the linnets sing, 
All things in my delight have part, 
Because thou art ! 



FLOWEKS FOR THE BRAVE. 

(decoration day, 1883.) 

Heke bring your purple and gold, 
Glory of color and scent ; 

Scarlet of tulips bold, 

Buds blue as the firmament. 

Hushed is the sound of the fife 
And the bugle piping clear. 

The vivid and delicate life 

In the soul of the youthful year 

We bring to the quiet dead, 

With a gentle and tempered grief 

O'er the mounds so mute we shed 
The beauty of blossom and leaf. 



20 FLOWERS FOR THE BRAVE. 

The flashing swords that were drawn, 
No rust shall their fame destroy ! 

Boughs rosy as rifts of dawn, 

Like the blush on the cheek of joy, 

Rich fires of the gardens and meads 
We kindle, these hearts above! 

What splendor can match their deeds? 
What sweetness can match our love? 



EXPOSTULATION. 

Tears in those eyes of blue! 

Sparks of fiery dew, 

Scornful lightnings that flash 

'Twixt dusky lash and lash! 

Never from sorrow grew 

That rain in my heaven of bluel' 

Full of disdain are you, 
Scorn for these fetters new. 
Sweet, you were free too long! 
Love is a master strong, 
Hard are the words but true, 
None may his chain undo. 

Nay! Let your heart shine through 
And soften those eyes of blue I 



22 EXPOSTULATION. 

Glide from your cliilly height, 
Banish your anger bright; 
Fairest, be gentlest, too. 
Fate is too mighty for you! 



PERSISTENCE. 

Skeleton schooner, looming strange on the 

far horizon's rim, 
Wasted and blurred by the bitter cold, all 

ghastly and pallid and dim. 
Whither goest thou, stiff and stark? What 

harbor locked in the frost 
Steerest thou for, through the freezing spray 

by the hissing breakers tossed? 

Wherefore strivest thou, fighting still to plough 
thy perilous way 

Against the might of the fierce northwest so 
woefully, night and day? 

Turn thee and spread thy wings so white, and 
fly to the tropic seas. 

Till the clogging ice that loads thee now dis- 
solves in a torrid breeze, 



24 PERSISTENCE. 

Till the blazing sun shall melt the tar in 

every rope and seam, 
Till thy frozen keel warm tides shall rock in 

a languid, lovely dream, 
Till thou liest lapped in perfumes sweet in 

some palm-girdled bay, 
Anchored in peace, to rest at last, for many 

a golden day. 

What cheer can be in thy dreadful toil, what 

hope in the raging deep? 
What joy from out their troubled voyage can 

thy worn seamen reap? 
Loosen thy close-reefed canvas, then, fling 

wide thy pinions white. 
Leap the long billows, swiftly sail into the 

south's delight ! 

Steadfast she steers to the bitter north along the 

horizon's rim. 
Wasted and blurred by the cruel cold, dull, 

ghostly, and pallid, and dim; 



PERSISTENCE. 25 

For grand are the will and courage of man, 
and still she must keep her course, 

And though she perish still must fight against 
nature's terrible force. 



S. E. 

She passes .up and down life's various ways 

With noiseless footfall and with serious air ; 

Within the circle of her quiet days 

She takes of sorrow and of joy her share. 

In her bright home, like some rare jewel set, 

The lustre of her beauty lives and glows, 

With all the fragrance of the violet, 

And all the radiant splendor of the rose. 

As simple and unconscious as a flower. 

And crowned with womanhood's most subtle 

charm. 
She blesses her sweet realm with gentle 

power. 
And keeps her hearth-fires burning clear and 

warm. 
To know her is to love her. Every year 
Makes her more precious and more wise and 

dear. 



POOR LISETTE. 

Sadly the quails in the cornland pipe, 
Yellow the harvest is bending ripe, 
Gayly the children each other greet, 
Wandering down through the village street. 

By her garden gate leans poor Lisette. 
" Her lover," they whisper, " comes not yet." 
She looks afar to the edge of the sky, 
Where blue and misty the mountains lie. 

What sudden echoes of fife and drum 
Down the long, dim, winding valley come ! 
Oh, bring they news for the poor Lisette, 
Eapture at last, or a life's regret? 

High ring the bugle notes so sweet. 
Nearer the rhythmic tramp of feet, — 



^8 POOR LISETTE. 

What tempest rushes to clasp Lisette, 
With lips so warm and with eyes so wet! 

She is safe in her lover's arms at last ; 
A dreary dream is the wretched past, 
The music of joy in her glad heart plays, 
And morning dawns in her radiant face : 

While clearly the quails in the cornland pipe, 
And silent the harvest is bending ripe, 
And the children shout to the fife and drum 
That pain is over and peace is come. 



TO J. G. W. 

ON HIS SEYENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY. 

What is there left, I wonder, 
To give thee on this glad day? 

Yainly I muse and ponder; 
What is there left to say? 

There is winter abroad, and snow. 
And winds that are chill and drear 

Over the sad earth blow, 

Like the sighs of the dying year. 

But the land thou lovest is warm 
At heart with the love of thee, 

And breaks into bloom and charm 
And fragrance, that thou mayest see. 



80 TO J. G. W. 

Violet, laurel, and rose, 

They are laid before thy feet. 

And the red rose deeper glows 
At a fate so proud and sweet. 

Gifts and greeting and blessing, 
Honor and praise, are thine ; 

There 's naught left worth expressing 
By any word or sign! 

So, like the rest, I offer 

The gift all gifts above 
That heaven or earth can proffer, — 

Deep, gentle, grateful love. 



IN TUSCANY. 

Down San Miniato in the afternoon 

Slowly we drove tlirougli still and golden 
air. 
'Twas winter, but the day was soft as 
June ; 
Florence was spread beneath us, passing 
fair. 

The matchless city ! Set about with flowers. 
Peaceful along her Arno's banks she lay ; 

Her treasured splendors, roofs and domes and 
towers, 
In tender light of the Italian day. 

Sweet breathed the roses, glowing far and 
wide. 
Pink, gold, and crimson ; dark in stately 
gloom 



32 IN TUSCANY. 

Stood the thick cypresses; on every side 
The laurestinus, rich with creamy bloom. 

And exquisite, pale, sharp-leaved olives grew 
In moonlight colors, silver-green and gray, 
While, lifting their proud heads high in the 
blue. 
Sprang the superb stone pines beside the 
way. 

Oh, wonderful, I thought, beyond compare ! 

And hushed with pleasure silent sat and 
gazed. 
When lo! a child's voice, and I grew aware 

Of loveliness that left me all amazed. 

A little beggar girl, that leaping came 

Forth from the roadside, reaching out her 
hand. 

And dancing like a bright and buoyant flame. 
Besought us in the music of her land. 



IN TUSCANY. 33 

Her eyes were like a midnight full of stars 
Below tlie dazzling beauty of her brows, 

Her dusky hair dark as the cloud that bars 
The moon in troubled skies when tempests 
rouse ; 

A mouth where lightning-sweet the sudden 
smile 
Came, went and came, and flashed into my 
face. 
And caught my heart, as, holding fast the 
while 
The carriage edge, she ran with rapid grace. 

Who could withstand her pleading, who resist 
The magic of those love-compelling eyes, 

Those lips the red pomegranate flowers had 
kissed, 
The voice that charmed like woven melodies ! 

Not we! Surely, I thought, imperial blood. 
Some priceless current from a kingly line, 

3 



34 IN TUSCANY. 

Kan royal in her veins, — a sunny flood 
That marked her with its fine, mysterious 
sign. 

She was not born to ask, but to command; 

She seemed to crown the wonder of the day, 
The perfect blossom of that glorious land. 

While her sweet " Grazie ! " followed on our 
way. 

As down 'mid olive, cypress, stately pine, 
Among the roses in a dream we passed. 

Through glamour of the time and place divine. 
Till Arno's quiet banks were reached at 
last. 

And pleasant rest. T is years since those fair 
hours, 
But their rich memories live, their sun and 
shade. 
Beautiful Florence set about with flowers. 
And San Miniato's peerless beggar maid. 



GOOD-BYE, SWEET DAY. 

FOR ISIUSIC. 

Good-bye, sweet day, good-bye ! 
I have so loved thee, but I cannot hold thee. 
Departing like a dream, the shadows fold thee ; 
Slowly thy perfect beauty fades away : 
Good-bye, sweet day! 

Good-bye, sweet day, good-bye! 

Dear were thy golden hours of tranquil splen- 
dor, 

Sadly thou yieldest to the evening tender 

Who wert so fair from thy first morning 
ray: 

Good-bye, sweet day! 

Good-bye, sweet day, good-bye I 
Thy glow and charm, thy smiles and tones 
and glances, 



36 GOOD-BYE, SWEET DAY 

Vanish at last, and solemn night advances; 
Ah, couldst thou yet a little longer stay! 
Good-bye, sweet day ! 

Good-bye, sweet day, good-bye! 

All thy rich gifts my grateful heart remem- 
bers, 

The while I watch thy sunset's smouldering 
embers 

Die in the west beneath the twilight gray. 

Good-bye, sweet day! 



IN AUTUMN. 

The aster by the brook is dead, 

And quenched the golden-rod's brief fire ; 
The maple's last red leaf is shed, 

And dumb the birds' sweet choir. 

'Tis life's November, too. How swift 
The narrowing days speed, one by one ! 

How pale the waning sunbeams sift 
Through clouds of gray and dun ! 

And as we lose our wistful hold 

On warmth and loveliness and youth. 

And shudder at the dark and cold, 
Our souls cry out for Truth. 

No more mirage, O Heavenly Powers, 
To mock our sight with shows so fair ! 



38 IN AUTUMN. 

We question of the solemn hours 
That lead us swif tly — " Where ? " 

We hunger for our lost '— in vain ! 

We lift our close- clasped hands above, 
And pray God's pity on our pain, 

And trust the Eternal Love. 



WEST-WIND. 

The barley bows from the west 

Before the delicate breeze 
That many a sail caressed 

As it swept the sapphire seas. 

It has found the garden sweet, 
And the poppy's cup it sways ; 

Bends the golden ears of wheat; 
And its dreamy touch it lays 

On the heavy mignonette, 

Stealing soft its odors fine, 
On the pansies dewy yet, 

On the phloxes red as wine. 

Where the honeysuckle sweet 

Storms the sunny porch with flowers, 



40 WEST'WIND. 

Like a tempest of delight 

Shaking fragrance down in showers, 

It touches with airy grace 

Each clustering, perfumed spray, 

Clasps all in a light embrace, 
And silently wanders away. 

Come forth in the air divine, 

Thou dearest, my crown of bliss ! 

Give that flower-sweet cheek of thine 
To the morning breeze to kiss. 

Add but thy perfect presence 

To gladden my happy eyes, 
And I would not change earth's morning 

For the dawns of Paradise ! 



IMPATIENCE. 

E. L. 

Only to follow you, dearest, only to find you ! 
Only to feel for one instant the touch of 
your hand ; 
Only to tell you once of the love you left be- 
hind you, — 
To say the world without you is like a desert 
of sand; 

That the flowers have lost their perfume, the 
rose its splendor, 
And the charm of nature is lost in a dull 
eclipse ; 
That joy went out with the glance of your 
eyes so tender, 
And beauty passed with the lovely smile on 
your lips. 



42 IMPATIENCE. 

I did not dream it was you who kindled the 
morning 
And folded the evening purple in peace soji 
sweet ; 

But you took the whole world's rapture with- 
out a warning, 
And left me naught save the print of youi 
patient feet. 



I count the days and the hours that hold us 
asunder : 
I long for Death's friendly hand which shall 
rend in twain, 
With the glorious lightning flash and the 
golden thunder, 
These clouds of the earth, and give me my 
own again! 



IN THE LANE. 

By cottage walls tlie lilacs blow ; 

Rich spikes of perfume stand and sway 
At open casements, where all day 

The warm wind waves them to and fro. 

Out of the shadow of the door, 

Into the golden morning air, 

Comes one who makes the day more fair 
And summer sweeter than before. 

The apple blossoms might have shed 
Upon her cheek the bloom so rare ; 
The sun has kissed her bright brown hair 

Braided about her graceful head. 

Lightly betwixt the lilacs tall 

She passes, through the garden gate, 



44 IN THE LANE. 

Across the road, and stays to wait 
A moment by the orchard wall; 

And then in gracious light and shade, 
Beneath the blossom-laden trees, 
'Mid song of birds and hum of bees, 

She strays, unconscious, unafraid, 

Till swiftly o'er the grassy space 

Comes one whose step she fain would stay. 

Glad as the newly risen day 
He stoops to read her drooping face. 

Her face is like the morning skies, 
Bright, timid, tender, blushing sweet ; 
She dares not trust her own to meet 

The steady splendor of his eyes. 

He holds her with resistless charm, 

With truth, with power, with beauty crowned ; 
About her lovely shape is wound 

The strong, safe girdle of his arm. 



IN THE LANE. 45 

Ind up and down througli shade and light 
They wander through the flying hours, 
And aU the way is strewn with flowers, 
^d life looks like one long delight. 

A.h, happy twain! No frost shaU harm. 
No change shall reach your bliss, so long 
As keeps its place the faithful, strong. 

Safe girdle of that folding arm. 

Could you this simple secret know 
No death in life would be to fear. 
When you may watch, in some sad year, 

By cottage waUs the lilacs blow ! 



HER MIRROR. 

O MIRROK, whence her lovely face 

Was wont to look with radiance sweet, 

Hast thou not kept of her some trace, 
Some memory that thou mayest repeat? 

Could I but find in thee once more 
Some token of her presence dear! 

O mirror, wilt thou not restore 
Her shadow for an instant here? 

Thou couldst not yield a boon so great. 

I see my own dim face and eyes 
With love and longing desolate, 

All drowned in wistful memories. 

Blindly for her dear hand I grope ; 

There 's nothing life can have in store 
So sweet to me as this sweet hope, 

To feel her smile on me once more ! 



FOR CHRISTMAS. 

" Thy own wish wish I thee in every place." 
The Christmas joy, the song, the feast, the 
cheer. 
Thine be the light of love in every face 
That looks on thee, to bless thy coming 
year. 

Thy own wish wish I thee. What dost thou 

crave ? 

All thy dear hopes be thine, whate'er they 

be. 

A wish fulfilled may make thee king or slave ; 

I wish thee Wisdom's eyes wherewith to see. 

Behold, she stands and waits, the youthful 
year ! 
A breeze of morning breathes about her 
brows ; 



48 FOR CHRISTMAS. 

She holds thy storm and sunshine, bliss and 
fear, 
Blossom and fruit upon the bending boughs. 

She brings thee gifts. What blessing wilt 
thou choose? 
Life's crown of good in earth or heaven 
above, 
The one immortal joy thou canst not lose. 
Is Love! Leave all the rest, and choose 
thou Love! 



AT SET OF MOON. 

The wind blows from the stormy quarter and 
tlie moon is old. 

Trouble has gathered in the sky so pallid, 
dim, and cold. 

Can this be morning? Is the world so blank 
and out of tune? 

Down yonder dim horizon something fades be- 
side the moon. 

What is it? 'Tis the ghost of joy that made 
the earth so sweet; 

Life's one supreme, bright happiness, that 
hastes with flying feet. 

The fading moon wiU brighten soon, in splen- 
dor shine again, 

But joy that was the life of life is merged in 
bitter pain. 



50 AT SET OF MOON. | 

Last niglit I passed her window : she dreamed 

not I was near. 
One ray slipped through the jealous curtain,, 

rosy-warm and clear; 
I kissed the flowers on which it fell, all dewy 

cold were they. 
With patient anguish in my heart I turned 

and stole away. 

She will not miss me, will not know if I am 

here or there ; 
If I am dead, or if I live, will neither know 

nor care. 
Death is not bitter as my grief, which craves 

one single boon, — 
Kelease me, God ! let my life fade like yonder 



MY GARDEN. 

It blossomed by tbe summer sea, 
A tiny space of tangled bloom 
Wherein so many flowers found room, 

A miracle it seemed to be ! 

Up from the ground, alert and bright. 
The pansies laughed in gold and jet. 
Purple and pied, and mignonette 

Breathed like a spirit of delight. 

Flaming the rich nasturtiums ran 
Along the fence, and marigolds 
" Opened afresh their starry folds " 

In beauty as the day began; 

While ranks of scarlet poppies gay 

Waved when the soft south wind did blow. 



52 MY GARDEN. 

Superb in sunshine, to and fro, 
Like soldiers proud in brave array. 

And tall blue larkspur waved its spikes 
Against the sea's deep violet, 
That every breeze makes deeper yet 

With splendid azure where it strikes ; 

And rosy-pale sweet-peas climbed up, 
And phloxes spread their colors fine. 
Pink, white, and purple, red as wine. 

And fire burned in the eschscholtzia's cup. 

More dear to me than words can tell 
Was every cup and spray and leaf ; 
Too perfect for a life so brief. 

Seemed every star and bud and bell. 

And many a maiden, fairer yet, 
Came smiling to my garden gay. 
Whose graceful head I decked alway 

With pansy and with mignonette. 



MY GARDEN. 63 

Such slender shapes of girlhood young 
Haunted that little blooming space, 
Each with a more delightful face 

Than any flower that ever sprung ! 

O shadowy shapes of youthful bloom ! 
How fair the sweet procession glides 
Down memory's swift and silent tides, 

Till lost in doubtful mists of gloom ! 

Year after year new flowers unfold, 
Year after year fresh maidens fair. 
Scenting their perfume on the air. 

Follow and find their red and gold. 

And while for them the poppies' blazo 
I gather, brightening into mine 
The eyes of vanished beauty shine. 

That gladdened long-lost summer days. 

Where are they all who wide have ranged ? 
Where are the flowers of other years? 



64 MY GARDEN. 

"What ear tlie wistful question hears? 
Ah, some are dead and all are changed. 

And still the constant earth renews 
Her treasured splendor ; stiU unfold 
Petals of purple and of gold 

Beneath the sunshine and the dews. 

But for her human children dear 
Whom she has folded to her breast, 
No beauty wakes them from their rest, 

Nor change they with the changing year. 



LOST AND SAVED. 

"O Love," he whispered low, "Eternal 
Love ! " 
And softly twilight's shadows round them 
drew, 
And one by one the stars grew bright above, 
And warm airs from the gates of sunset 
blew. 

Swift o'er the summer sea they lightly sailed; 

The rushing winds, the rushing waves, sang 

sweet ; 

But sweeter than all sounds the voice that 

failed. 

Shaken by the full heart that strongly beat. 

Fast piled the clouds in darkness south and 
east, 
Each other's starry eyes they only saw. 



56 LOST AND SAVED. 

What was the world to them? The breeze 
increased, 
And caught the glimmering sail with gusty 
flaw. 

Low stooped the mast ; the firm hand at the 
helm 
Held bravely yet the light craft to its 
course, 
Though hurrying breakers fain would over- 
whelm, 
And the gale gathered with resistless force. 

Black night, black storm, that rose in sudden 
wrath ! 

All lost the cheerful stars forgot to burn, 
And death was waiting silent in the path, 

Along whose wavering way was no return. 

Or life or death — what mattered it to them? 
Locked mute and still within each other's 
arms, 



LOST AND SAVED. 57 

They sought no more the tempest's rage to 
stem, 
Deaf to the tumult of the night's alarms. 

Beyond their fate uplifted, death was naught, 
Nor could they know, borne safe all pain 
above, 

Into immortal life together caught, 

That only thus should live Eternal Love! 



A ROSE OF JOY. 



FOR A BETROTHAL. 



As when one wears a fragrant rose 
Close to the heart, a rose most fair, 

And while the day's life onward flows 
Forgets that it is fastened there, 

And wonders what delicious charm 
Dwells in the air about, and whence 

Come the rich wafts of perfume warm 
Subtly saluting soul and sense ; 

And then, remembering what it is. 
Bends smiling eyes the flower above, 

Adores its beauty and its bliss 

And looks on it with grateful love — 



A ROSE OF JOY. 69 

Even so I wear, O friend of mine, 
The sweet thought of your happiness ; 

The knowledge of your joy divine 
Is fragrant with a power to bless. 

With the day's work preoccupied 
Vaguely, half conscious of delight, 

Upborne as on a buoyant tide, 

I wonder why life seems so bright. 

Then memory speaks ; then winter gray 
And age and cares that have no end 

Touch me no more. I am to-day 

Rich in the wealth that cheers my friend. 



IN SEPTEMBER. 

Leaping from the boat, through the lazy, 

sparkling surf, 
Up the slope we press, o'er the rich, elastic 

turf. 
Heavy waves the golden-rod in the morning 

breeze, 
Swift spring the startled grasshoppers, thick 

about our knees. 

Look, how shines the distance ! Leagues of 

water blue. 
Wind-swept, sunshine-flooded, with a flying 

sail or two. 
Gleaming white as silver, and dreaming, here 

and there, 
A snowy-breasted gull floats in the golden air. 



IN SEPTEMBER. 61 

How sweet to climb together the scented, flow- 
ery slope, 

O dearest, hand in hand, like children follow- 
ing hope; 

Laughing at the grasshoppers, singing with 
delight. 

Only to be alive this September morning 
bright ! 

But where would be the beauty of this bril- 
liant atmosphere 

Wert thou away, my darling? Would not 
the sky be drear. 

And gray the living azure of the changing, 
sparkling sea? 

And blossoms, birds, and sails, and clouds — 
what would they be to me? 

Rest we here a little upon the breezy height, 
And watch the play of color, the shadow, and 
the light, 



62 IN SEPTEMBER. 

And let the lovely moment overflow us with 

its bliss. 
When shall we find another so beautiful as 

this? 

I turn from all the splendor to those clear 
eyes of thine, 

That watch the shimmering sails on the far 
horizon line ; 

While sun and wind salute thy cheek till roses 
blossom there, 

Thou golden creature, than the morn a thou- 
sand times more fair ! 

Ah ! must it end ? Must winter hurl its snow 

across the sea, 
And roar with leagues of bitterness between 

thy face and me? 
Must chill December fill with murk and storm 

this wooing air, 
And the west wind wail like the voice of some 

supreme despair? 



IN SEPTEMBER. 63 

Too surely! But, O friendly eyes, hold sum- 
mer safe for me; 

Only, O gentle heart, keep warm and sweet 
my memory ; 

And no fury of the tempest my world can 
desolate — 

This winged joy will lift my soul above the 
storms of fate. 



UNDER THE EAVES. 

Pleasant above the city's din 

My quiet room beneath the eaves; 

The first to see the day begin, 

The last the sunshine lingering leaves. 

Pleasant upon the window pane 
Uplifted high, so near the sky, 

To hear the patter of the rain. 
Or see the snow go swirling by ; 

To watch the gilded weather-cocks 
In every eddy turn and wheel; 

To hear the clear, melodious shocks 
Of chiming bells that clang and peal. 

Dove-haunted roofs and towers and spires, 
The friendly faces of the clocks, 



UNDER THE EAVES. 65 

The network of electric wires, 
The sparrows gossiping in flocks, 

The smoke's dim, ragged phantoms soft 
From myriad chimneys lightly curled, 

That mingle with the clouds aloft 

Slow sailing with the sailing world — 

Pleasant and peaceful all. Most sweet 
When morning and when evening fires, 

Silent above the busy street. 

Touch the dove-haunted roofs and spires. 

Neighbored by sparrow and by dove, 
A comrade of the weather-cocks. 

My quiet, airy perch I love. 

The chimney-stacks, the city clocks; 

And thank the heavens that bend above 
For leave to find such deep delight 

In tower and spire and fluttering dove. 
Color and cloud and sparrow's flight. 



NOVEMBER MORNING. 

With clamor the wild southwester 
Through the wide heaven is roaring, 

Ploughing the ocean, and over 
The earth its fury outpouring. 

Lo, how the vast gray spaces 

Wrestle and roll and thunder, 
Billow piled upon billow, 

Closing and tearing asunder, 

As if the deep raged with the anger 
Of hosts of the fabulous kraken ! 

And the firm house shudders and trembles. 
Beaten, buffeted, shaken. 

Battles the gull with the tempest. 

Struggling and wavering and faltering, 



NOVEMBER MORNING. 67 

Soaring and striving and sinking, 
Turning, its high course altering. 

Down through the cloudy heaven 

Notes from the wild geese are falling; 

Cries like harsh bell-tones are ringing, 
Echoing, clanging, and calling. 

Plunges the schooner landward. 

Swiftly the long seas crossing, 
Close-reefed, seeking the harbor. 

Half lost in the spray she is tossing. 

A rift in tho roof of vapor! 

And stormy sunshine is streaming 
To color the gray, wild water 

Like chrysoprase, green and gleaming. 

Cold and tempestuous ocean, 

Ragged rock, brine-swept and lonely. 

Grasp of the long, bitter winter — 
These things to gladden me only ! 



68 NOVEMBER MORNING. 

Love, dost thou wait for me in some rich land 

Where the gold orange hangs in odorous 

calm? 

Where the clear waters kiss the flowery strand, 

Bordered with shining sand and groves of 

palm? 

And while this bitter morning breaks for 
me, 

Draws to its close thy warm, delicious day; 
Lights, colors, perfumes, music, joy, for thee. 

For me the cold, wild sea, the cloudy gray ! 

Kises the red moon in thy tranquil sky, 
Plashes the fountain with its silver talk, 

And as the evening wind begins to sigh, 
Thy sweet girl's shape steals down the gar- 
den walk. 

And through the scented dusk a white robe 
gleams. 
Lingering beneath the starry jasmine sprays. 



NOVEMBER MORNING. 69 

rill where thy clustered roses breathe in 
dreams, 
A sudden gush of song thy light step 
stays. 

That was the nightingale ! O Love of mine, 
Hear'st thou my voice in that pathetic song, 

Throbbing in passionate cadences divine, 
Sinking to silence with its rapture strong? 

I stretch my arms to thee through all the 
cold, 
Through all the dark, across the weary 
space 
Between us, and thy slender form I fold, 
And gaze into the wonder of thy face. 

Pure brow the moonbeam touches, tender eyes 
Splendid with feeling, delicate smiling mouth. 

And heavy silken hair that darkly lies 

Soft as the twilight clouds in thy sweet 
South. 



70 NOVEMBER MORNING. 

beautiful my Love ! In vain I seek 
To hold tlie heavenly dream that fades fromj 

me. 

1 needs must wake with salt spray on my 

cheek, 
Flung from the fury of this northern sea. 



IN DEATH'S DESPITE. 

Whither departs the perfume of the rose? 

Into what life dies music's golden sound? 
Year iiftci year life's long procession goes 

To hide itself beneath the senseless ground. 
Upon the grave's inexorable brink 

Amazed with loss the human creature stands ; 
Vainly he strives to reason or to think, 

I/eft with his aching heart and empty 
hands ; 
He calls his lost in vain. In sorrow drowned, 
Darkness and silence all his sense confound. 

Till ii^ Death's roll-call stern he hears his 
name, 
ID tiii.'n he follows and is lost to sight; 



Y2 IN DEATH'S DESPITE. 

Though comforted by love and crowned by 
fame, 
He bears tbe summons dread no man may 
slight. 
Sweetly and clear upon his quiet grave 

The birds shall sing, unmindful of his dust; 
Softly in turn the long green grass shall 
wave 
Over his fallen head. In turn he must 
Submit to be forgotten, like the rest. 
Though high the heart that beat within his 
breast. 

The rose falls and the music's sound is gone; 
Dear voices cease and clasp of loving hands ; 
Alone we stand when the brief day is done, 
Searching with saddened eyes earth's dark- 
ening lands. 
Worthless as is the lightest fallen leaf 

We seem, yet constant as the night's first 
star 



IN DEATH'S DESPITE. 73 

Kindles our deathless hope, and from our 

grief 
Is born the trust no misery can mar, 
That Love shall lift us all despair above, 
Shall conquer death, — yea. Love, and only 

Love ! 



A SONG OF HOPE. 

The morning breaks, the storm is past. Be- 
hold! 
Along the west the lift grows bright, — the 
sea 
Leaps sparkling blue to catch the sunshine's 
gold, 
And swift before the breeze the vapors flee. 

Light cloud-flocks white that troop in joyful 

haste 

Up and across the pure and tender sky ; 

Light laughing waves that dimple all the 

waste 

And break upon the rocks and hurry by ! 



A SONG OF HOPE. 75 

Flying of sails, of clouds, a tiunult sweet. 
Wet, tossing buoys, a warm wild wind that 
blows 

The pennon out and rushes on to greet 

Thy lovely cheek and heighten its soft rose ! 

Beloved, beloved ! Is there no morning breeze 

To clear our sky and chase our mists away, 

Like this great air that sweeps the freshening 

seas, 

And wakes the old sad world to glad new 

day? 

Sweeter than morning, stronger than the gale. 
Deeper than ocean, warmer than the sun. 

My love shall climb, shall claim thee, shall 
prevail 
Against eternal darkness, dearest one ! 



OUR SOLDIERS. 

Peace smiles over hamlet and city, 

Peace broods over mountain and stream, 

Our tears of anguish and pity- 
Are a haK-forgotten dream. 

The tempest of battle is ended. 
And our dear, delivered land 

Stands free in the sunshine splendid, 
No stain upon her hand. 

What shall we do to honor 

Her dauntless sons to-day. 
Who shed such glory upon her, 

Striking her chains away? 
Fair floats the banner o'er her, — 

What did not her children give? 
They cast their lives before her, 

Dying that she might live. 



OUR SOLDIERS, 77 

Remember them, praise them, love tliem, 

The noble hearts and brave ! 
May earth lie lightly above them 

In many a nameless grave. 
Great was their high endeavor, 

Great is their glorious meed ; 
Honor our heroes forever, 

Praise them with word and deed! 



TWO. 

She turned the letter's rustling page ; her smile 
Made bright the air about her while she read : 

" I come to you to-morrow, love ; meanwhile 
Love me, my sweet," he said. 

"What other business has my life?" she 
thought, 
And musing passed, as in some happy 
dream. 
To the day's care and toils, and while she 
wrought 
Time winged with light did seem. 

To-morrow ! When the summer morning broke 
In rose and gold, and touched her slumber- 
ing eyes 



TWO. 79 

Softly, with tempered splendor, and she woke 
To the rich dawn's surprise, 

Birds sang aloft and roses bloomed below ; 

Flushed wide the tender fleecy mists above ; 
Came Memory, leading Hope, and whispered 
low, 

" Love me ! I come, my love." 

*' So that thou comest," she thought, " skies 
may grow gray. 
The sun may fade, the sea with foam blanch 
white. 
Tempest and thunder dread may spoil the day. 
But not my deep delight." 

O sweet and awful Love ! O power supreme. 
Mighty and sacred, terrible art thou ; 

Beside thee Life and Death are but a dream. 
Before thee all must bow. 



80 TWO. 

When in the west the sunset's crimson flame 
Burned low and wasted, and the cool winds 
blew, 
Watching the steadfast sky she heard her 
name 
Breathed in the voice she knew. 

Joy shook her heart, nor would its pulse be 
stilled ; 
Her fair cheek borrowed swift the sunset's 
bloom. 
A presence beautiful and stately filled 
The silence of the room. 

*' Hast thou no word of welcome ? " for in- 
deed 
Like some mute marble goddess proud stood 
she ; 
She turned. " O king of men ! " she cried, 
"what need 
That I should welcome thee?" 



TWO. 81 

Her eyes divine beneath her solemn brows 
Met his clear gaze and measured strength 
for strength. 

She drooped, as to the sun the lily bows. 
Into his arms at length. 

Wide swung heaven's gates for them ; no more 
they knew. 
The silent stars looked in, they saw them 
not. 
The slow winds wandered soft through dusk 
and dew, 
But earth was all forgot. 



COMPENSATION. 

In that new world toward whicli our feet are 

set, 
Shall we find aught to make our hearts forget 
Earth's homely joys and her bright hours of 

bliss ? 
Has heaven a sj)ell divine enough for this? 
For who the pleasure of the spring shall tell, 
"When on the leafless stalk the brown buds 

swell, 
When the grass brightens and the days grow 

long. 
And little birds break out in rippling song? 

O sweet the dropping eve, the blush of morn. 
The starlit sky, the rustling fields of corn. 
The soft airs blowing from the freshening 
seas, 



COMPENSATION. 83 

The sun-flecked shadow of the stately trees, 
The mellow thunder and the lulling rain, 
The warm, delicious, happy summer rain, 
When the grass brightens and the days grow 

long, 
And little birds break out in rippling song ! 

O beauty manifold, from morn till night. 
Dawn's flush, noon's blaze, and sunset's tender 

light ! 
O fair, familiar features, changes sweet 
Of her revolving seasons, storm and sleet 
And golden calm, as slow she wheels through 

space 
From snow to roses, — and how dear her face 
When the grass brightens and the days grow 

long. 
And little birds break out in rippling song! 

O happy Earth ! O home so well beloved ! 
W^hat recompense have we, from thee removed ? 
One hope we have that overtops the whole, — 



84 COMPENSATION. 

The hope of finding every vanished soul 
We love and long for daily, and for this 
Gladly we turn from thee and all thy bliss, 
Even at thy loveliest, when the days are long, 
And little birds break out in rippling song. 



SONNET. 

Back from life's coasts tlie ebbing tide had 

drawn, 
The singing tide that brimmed with joy the 

shore : 
The torch of sunset and the blush of dawn 
Seemed to have lost their glow forevermore, 
There was such silence in the empty sky! 
And Nature mocked me, grown so cold and 

dumb. 
And Faith, I thought, had perished utterly, 
Nor knew I whence a ray of hope should come ; 
When, like a royal messenger of good 
Sent to some sad and famine-stricken land, 
Across my threshold dark you passed, and 

stood, 
Bearing the keys of heaven in your hand ; 
And v/ide the bright, resounding gates you 

threw ! 
Tell me, O friend, what I shall do for you ! 



JOY. 

Jot breathes in the sweet airs of spring, 
And in the shy wild blossom hides, 

And soars upon the swallow's wing. 
And with the singing water glides. 

Where lilies stand, a fragrant crowd. 
Rocked by the warm south wind he lies ; 

And dreams upon the balmy cloud 
Soft floating in the tender skies : 

Shines clear from out the crescent sharp, 
Glittering above the sunset's red. 

And of the west wind makes a harp, 
And gleams in starlight overhead : 

Joy mantles in the golden wine, 

Joy to earth's humblest doth descend, 

And looks at me with cheer divine 
From out the dear eyes of my friend. 



BELOVED. 

A STRONG sweet tide toward the lonely shore 

Sets steadfastly, till every inlet sings, 
And to the waiting silence, blank before. 
Its full refreshment brings. 

Through the day's business passing to and fro, 
Ever she grows more conscious of the charm 
Upholding her wherever she may go, 
Like some enfolding arm. 

For this dear joy all days more fair do seem. 
The night's repose more blissful and more 
deep. 
As pillowed on the breast of this sweet dream 
Softly she falls asleep. 



88 BELOVED. 

Safe is she, lifted all earth's ills above ; 

No storm can break her calm, no evil reach 
Within the charmed circle drawn by Love, 
Blest beyond thought or speech. 

O maiden, dream thy dream! Life's crown 
of thorns, 
Draws it not down, unseen, about thy brows ? 
The glory of thy summer eves and morns 
Stern winter shall espouse. 

Within this Eden of thy sweet content 

No mortal stays, — that, the great gods for- 
bid; 
But canst thou learn that in thy banishment 
A higher good lies hid? 



THE ANSWER. 

The blossoms blush on the bough, 
And the air is full of song, 

Oh give me my answer now. 
Dear Love, I have waited long! 

The blossoms mantle and flush, — 
I see but the rose in your cheek, — 

And the birds their music hush. 
For the fate your lips may speak. 

I listen for life or death. 

With hope's deep rapture stirred, 
And faint as the blossoms' breath 

Comes your low, delicious word. 

And the earth reels under my feet, — 
O blossoms that burn on the bough! 

With the strength of a joy so sweet, 
For I have my answer now ! 



WILD GEESE. 

A FAR, strange sound througli the night, 
A dauntless and resolute cr}^. 

Clear in the tempest's despite, 
Einging so wild and so high ! 

Darkness and tumult and dread, 
Kain and the battling of gales, 

Yet cleaving the storm overhead, 
The wedge of the wild geese sails. 

Pushing their perilous way. 
Buffeted, beaten, and vexed ; 

Steadfast by night and by day. 
Weary, but never perplexed; 

Sure that the land of their hope 
Waits beyond tempest and dread. 



WILD GEESE. 91 

Sure that the dark where they grope 
Shall glow with the morning red ! 

Clangor that pierces the storm 

Dropped from the gloom of the sky! 

I sit by my hearth-fire warm 

And thrill to that purposeful cry. 

Strong as a challenge sent out, 

Rousing the timorous heart 
To battle with fear and with doubt, 

Courageously bearing its part. 

O birds in the wild, wild sky ! 

Would I could so follow God's way 
Through darkness, unquestioning why, 

With only one thought — to obey I 



SONG. 

Past the point and by the beach, 
Oh but the waves ran merrily, 

With laughter light and silver speech, 
And red the sunset flushed the sea. 

Two lovers wandered side by side, 
Oh but the waves ran merrily, — 

They watched the rushing of the tide. 
And fairer than a dream was she. 

About her slender waist was cast, 
Oh but the waves ran merrily, — 

His strong right arm that held her fast, 
A zone that clasped her royally. 

He gazed in her bewildering face. 
Oh but the waves ran merrily, — 



SONG. 98 

" See how the waves each other chase ! 
So follow all my thoughts to thee." 

" And seest thou yonder star ? " she said, 
Oh but ^ the waves ran merrily, — 

" Superb in yonder evening-red ? 

So dost thou light my life for me ! '' 

'Twas long ago that star did shine, 
Oh but the waves ran merrily, — 

Love made for them the world divine 
In that old time beside the sea. 

The soft wind sighs, the great sea rolls. 
Oh but the waves run merrily, — 

What has Time done with those two souls? 
And Love who charmed them, — where is he? 



AUGUST. 

Buttercup nodded and said good-by, 
Clover and daisy went off together, 

But the fragrant water-lilies lie 

Yet moored in the golden August weather. 

The swallows chatter about their flight, 

The cricket chirps like a rare good fellow. 

The asters twinkle in clusters bright, 

While the corn grows ripe and the apples 
mellow. 



SONG. 

A BIRD upon a rosy bough 

Sang low and long, sang late and loud, 
Until the young moon's silver prow 

Was lost behind a bar of cloud. 

The south wind paused and held its breath - 
Sing loud and late, sing low and long, 

While sweet as Love and sad as Death, 
The matchless notes rose wild and strong. 

They rang with rapture, loss and change — 
Sing low and late, sing long and loud, 

A tumult passionate and strange, 
A speechless grief, a patience proud; 



96 SONG. 

Till with " farewell for evermore, " — 
Sing late and loud, sing low and long, 

Like waves that kiss a barren shore 
In sobbing cadence died the song. 



OH TELL ME NOT OF HEAVENLY HALLS. 

Oh tell me not of heavenly halls, 

Of streets of pearl and gates of gold, 

Where angel unto angel calls 

'Mid splendors of the sky untold; 

My homesick heart would backward turn 
To find this dear, familiar earth, 

To watch its sacred hearth-fires burn. 
To catch its songs of joy or mirth. 

I'd lean from out the heavenly choir 
To hear once more the red cock crow, 

What time the morning's rosy fire 
O'er hill and field began to glow. 

To hear the ripple of the rain. 

The summer waves at ocean's brim. 



98 OH TELL ME NOT OF HEAVENLY HALLS. 

To hear the sparrow sing again 
I 'd quit the wide-eyed cherubim ! 

I care not what heaven's glories are ; 

Content am I. More joy it brings 
To watch the dandelion's star 

Than mystic Saturn's golden rings. 

And yet — and yet, O dearest one I 
My comfort from life's earliest breath, 

To follow thee where thou art gone 

Through those dim, awful gates of Death, 

To find thee, feel thy smile again, 

To have eternity's long day 
To tell my grateful love, — why, then, 

Both heaven and earth might pass away! 



MIDSUMMER. 

White as a blossom is the kerchief quaint 
Over her sumptuous shoulders lightly laid ; 

Fairer than any picture men could paint, 
In the cool orchard's fragrant light and 
shade 

She stands and waits : some pensive dream 
enfolds 
Her beauty sweet, and bows her radiant 
head ; 
The delicate pale roses that she holds 

Seem to have borrowed of her cheek their 
red. 

She waits like some superb but drooping 
flower 
To feel the touch of morning and the sun, 



100 MIDSUMMER. 

And o'er her head the glowing petals shower, 
And to her feet the shifting sunbeams run. 

I follow to her feet their pathway fine, 

And while my voice the charmed silence 
breaks. 
What startled splendors from her deep eyes 
shine ! 
Into what glory my rich flower awakes ! 



NEW YEAR SONG. 

O Sorrow, go thy way and leave me ! 

Weary am I of thee, thou Sorrow old. 
Unclasp thy hand from mine and cease to 
grieve me. 

Fade like the winter sunset dim and cold. 

Depart, and trouble me no longer! 

Die! Vanish with forgotten yesterdays. 
Eastward the darkness melts, the light grows 
stronger. 
And dawn breaks sweet across the shroud- 
ing haze. 

Die and depart, Old Year, old Sorrow! 

Welcome, O morning air of health and 
strength ! 



102 NEW YEAR SONG. 

O glad New Year, bring us new hope to-mor- 
row, 
With blossom, leaf, and fruitage bright at 
length. 



CAPTURED. 

Nanette ! 

Can you not teach me to forget? 

It is so hard to understand! 

You would not lift your slender hand 

To keep me yours, yet must I be 

Yours only, yours eternally, 

Though 'neath the chain I strive and fret, 

Nanette ! 

That golden hour when first we met, 

Like the swift inundating sea 

Love's tide swept in and conquered me. 

Love uttered Love's supremest word, 

A moment you were touched and stirred ; 

Ah, that 's the anguish of regret, 

Nanette ! 

My every thought on you was set ; 

I poured for you Love's priceless wine, 



104 CAPTURED. 

You could no more its power divine 
Than one small blossom's cup of gold 
The boundless firmament could hold : 
My eyes with scornful tears are wet 
Nanette ! 

This withered spray of mignonette 
You gave me, from my heart I take, 
This sick, sad heart you taught to ache, 
And fling it in the restless sea — 
I would my thought of you could be 
So flung away from me ; and yet 
Nanette ! 

I cannot break the cruel net, 
Though I may curse my fate and swear 
You are not kind, nor good, nor fair, 
You'll hold me by one silken tress, 
Or eyelid's down-dropped loveliness, 
A touch of hand, or tone of voice. 
Or smile that all my will destroys : 
Ah Heaven! the only boon I crave 
Is rest, the silence of the grave. 
Kelease me ! Teach me to forget, 
Nanette I 



FAITH. 

Fain would I hold my lamp of life aloft 

Like yonder tower built high above the reef ; 
Steadfast, though tempests rave or winds blow 
soft, 
Clear, though the sky dissolve in tears of 
grief. 

For darkness passes, storms shall not abide : 
A little patience and the fog is past. 

After the sorrow of the ebbing tide 

The singing flood returns in joy at last. 

The night is long and pain weighs heavily, 
But God will hold His world above despair. 

Look to the East, where up the lucid sky 
The morning climbs ! The day shall yet be 
fair I 



AT DAWN. 

Early this morning waking, 

I heard the sandpipers call, 
And the sea on the shore was breaking 

With a dreamy rise and fall. 

The dawn that was softly blushing 
Touched cloud and wave with rose, 

And the sails in the west were flushing, 
No breeze stirred their repose. 

What tone in the water's falling 
Had reached me while I dreamed? 

What sound in the wild birds' calling 
Like a heavenly greeting seemed? 

What meant the delicate splendor 
That brightened the conscious morn 



AT DAWN. 107 

With a radiance fresh and tender 
Crowning the day newborn? 

All nature's musical voices 
Whispered, " Awake and see ! 

Awake, for the day rejoices ! " 

What news had the morn for me? 

Then I remembered the blessing 
So sweet, O friend, so near ! 

The joy beyond all expressing, — 
To-day you would be here. 



IN A HORSE-CAR. 

I WONDERED wliat power possessed the place 
As I took my seat in the motley crowd, 

And glancing swiftly from face to face 

Of the poor and mean, and the rich and 
proud, 

And all the stages betwixt the two 
That daily travel the iron track, 

I stopped at a young face fresh as dew, 
Framed in white with a hood of black. 

'Twas a little Sister of Charity; 

Oh young and slender, oh sweet and calm ! 
Like a pensive moonbeam pale was she, 

"With her fair hands folded palm to palm. 



IN A HORSE-CAR. 109 

And a delicate beauty of high repose, 
A sacred peace, as if far withdrawn 

From the hard world's din, like a cloistered 
rose, 
She blossomed pure as the breath of dawn. 

I marveled much how a girl like this. 

In her Maytime splendor could turn away 

From the brimming cup of her youth's bright 
bliss. 
To succor the sorrowful day by day. 

And yet when I looked at her once more, 
With her lofty aspect of tempered cheer. 

All the joys of the earth seemed vain and 
poor 
To the lovely record written here. 

And I felt how true it is, how sure 
That every good deed adds a light 

To the human face, not there before. 
While every ill thing leaves its blight. * 



110 IN A HORSE-CAR. 

It does not follow that women and men 
Must live in a cloister to work for God; 

There's enough to do, to the dullest ken, 
In the great world's paths spread wide 
abroad. 

And the good or ill of the life we lead 
Is sculptured clear on the countenance; 

Be it love and goodness, or sin and greed, 
Who runs may read at a single glance. 



A VALENTINE. 

What is the whole world worth, Dear, 
Weighed against love and truth? 

Sweet is the spring to the earth, Dear, 
Bright is the blossom of youth: 

And the skies of summer are tender 
In fullness of life and strength, 

And rich is the autumn splendor, 
But winter comes at length. 

Tell me, what spell shall charm us 
When the golden days expire? 

What is there left to warm us 
Save Love's most sacred fire ? 

While on the soul's high altar 
Its clear light burns secure, 



112 A VALENTINE. 

Though the step of joy may falter, 
And the glad years are no more, 

The frosts of age are naught, Dear ! 

I clasp thy hand in mine 
Fondly as when youth sought, Dear, 

To be thy Valentine. 



WITHIN AND WITHOUT. 

The tide flows up, the tide flows down: 
The water brims the creek and falls ; 
A cottage weather-stained and brown 
Lifts at the brink its time-worn waUs. 

Beneath the lowly window sill 
Two little beds of blossoms gay 
The wandering airs with fragrance fiU, 
Sweeten the night and charm the day. 

The tide flows up, the tide flows down : 
From the low window's humble square 
A woman in a faded gown, 
With care-dimmed eyes and tangled hair. 

Looks out across the smiling space 
Where golden suns and stars unfold: 



114 WITHIN AND WITHOUT. 

Blue larkspur, the pied pansy's face, 
Nasturtium bells of scarlet bold, — 

She sees them not, nor cares, nor knows. 
A man's rough figure noon and night 
And morning o'er the threshold goes, — 
No sense has he for their delight. 

The tide flows up, the tide flows down: 
In that dull house a little maid 
Lives lonely, under Fortune's frown, 
A life unchildlike and afraid. 

To her that tiny garden-plot 

Means heaven. She comes at eve to stand 

'Mid mallow and forget-me-not 

And marigolds on either hand. 

They look at her with brilliant eyes, 
Their scent is greeting and caress; 
They spread their rich and glowing dyes 
Her saddened soul to cheer and bless. 



WITHIN AND WITHOUT. 115 

The tide flows up, the tide flows down: 
Within, how base the life and poor ! 
Without, what wealth and beauty crown 
The humble flowers beside the door ! 



BETROTHED. 

Softly the flickering firelight comes and goes ; 

The warm glow flashes, sinks, departs, re- 
turns, 
And shows me where the delicate red rose 

In the tall, slender vase of crystal burns. 

The tempest beats without. The hush within 
Is sweeter for the turmoil of the night; 

Ice clatters at the pane and snow-flakes spin 
A web of woven storm, a shroud of white. 

Its secret the wild winter weather keeps. 
No sound transpires except the tempest's 
breath ; 

Locked in the frost the muffled pathway sleeps, 
For any human token still as death. 



BETROTHED. 117 

My eyes the room's familiar aspect hold, 
Its quiet beauty and its sumptuous gloom, 

Its glimmering draperies of dull rich gold. 
The gleam upon the burnished peacock's 
plume. 

My rose, my book, my work, I see tkem all, 
"With my whole soul surrendered to one 
• sense. 
My life within my ears, for one footfall 
Listening with patience breathless and in- 
tense. 

'T is my heart hears, at last, the silent door 
Swing on its hinges, there 's no need the 
fire 
Should show me whose step thrills the con- 
scious floor. 
As suddenly the wayward flame leaps higher. 

Thou comest, bringing all good things that 
are ! 



118 BETROTHED. 

Infinite joy, and peace with white wings 
furled, 
All heaven is here and thou the morning-star. 
Thou splendor of my life ! " Thou Day o' 
the world ! " 



QUESTIONS. 

The steadfast planet spins through space, 

And into darkness, into light 
Swiftly it wheels its living face, 

" 'T is day," we say, or " It is night." 

And we who cling and with it turn, 
Till spent is our brief span of years, 

Watching our sister stars that burn 
Through the dim trouble of our tears, 

We question of the silence vast. 

Of souls that people distant spheres ; 

What of their future and their past? 
Have they our sorrows, joys, and fears? 

Do the same flowers make glad their sight? 
The same birds sing ? On their great seas 



120 QUESTIONS. 

Do ships like ours, with canvas white, 
Move stately, answering to the breeze? 

Have they their Christ, their Christmas Day? 

Know they Mahomet? Buddha? One, 
Or all or none? And do they pray? 

And have they wrought as we have done? 

We cannot guess, 'tis hard indeed. 
Our own orb's tale of its dim past 

Through centuries untold to read. 
And who its future shall forecast ? 

We only know it keeps its place. 

An atom in the universe. 
As through the awful realms of space 

The mighty hosts of stars disperse. 

We know the hand that holds in check 
The whirling worlds, each in its course. 

And saves the universe from wreck 
And peril, this tremendous Force 



QUESTIONS. 121 

Holds likewise all our little lives; 

The suns and stars do all obey 
His bidding, never planet strives 

To swerve from its appointed way. 

The dangerous boon alone to us 

Is given, — to choose 'twixt ill and well, 

Rebellion or obedience, — thus 

To build our heaven, or dig our hell. 

But one great thought our strength upholds ; 

Nothing shall perish! Though His rod 
Smites sore, His mercy still enfolds 

His own, God's souls are safe with God. 



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